Married With Children: Possession
by Thor2000
Summary: Married With Children, CSI: NY, Supernatural, Quantum Leap and Wizards of Waverly Place crossover with Kelly Bundy possessed and in NYC with the Winchesters after her. Multiple TV Crossover
1. Chapter 1

It was a late September night. The moon was at mid-sky ready to rise even higher to the sky from the blood-red sky of dust to the eternal night of ethereal violet. All along Jeopardy Lane, the houses all had finely manicured lawns… except for one. All the houses were very well maintained with new roofs and asphalt driveways… except one. Parked in nearly every driveway was a fine, expensive European car… except one. The car that belonged to that driveway was chugging its way down the street, belching smoke, leaking oil and lurching and gasping along its way. The strange thing was that the engine wasn't even running. It had conked out on the by-pass and its driver was still rolling from the momentum off the freeway as he drove through the Hennessy's mailbox, sending it flying into the Finnerty's garden. The car left its tread marks in the Brady's yard as it spun round the corner, roared through the Gold's bushes and terrorized the Forman's defenseless wiener dog before rolling to a stop in its drive way like a dead pigeon landing in its own nest. Sean Finnerty had heard the ruckus coming down the street and came out beer in hand as he watched Al Bundy struggle to apply the brake before smacking into his own garage. Finnerty didn't think those brakes would work, but they actually did helped a bit by the tail end of the Darcy's Mercedes.

Gasping tiredly, Bundy tiredly untied his rope seatbelt in the car and staggered out of the driver's side seat in his brown pants and blue shirt. His face was shaped to reflect a man tired of life but not able to take himself out of it. He was meant for so much better with his life. What the heck happened?! He paused outside of his red belching and smoking Dodge, looked to God in the heavens for solace that never came then slammed his frustrated hostility in the door of his junker. Actually, it was a junker when he first bought it; today, it was basically a set of metal parts held together by the oil flowing through it. Upon slamming the door, the smoke coughed out and the engine started running smooth again.

"Lousy, stinking…." Al began kicking the side of the car until the engine popped loudly and shut off. His face twisting with disgust, he draped his jacket over his right shoulder with his right hand and forced himself to tread through his weed-filled walkway to the front entrance. From across the street, Finnerty started screaming.

"Hey, Bundy!" Sean loved to remind Al how bad he had it. "My wife made me pork chops for dinner! What do you think your wife has for you?"

"Well," Al hollered back. "If she's like your wife, it's the mailman chained to the bed upstairs!"

"I didn't need to hear that!"

"And I don't need to see your son wearing dresses in your upstairs window!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Figure it out, Finnerty!"

"Hey, Bundy!" Michael Gold now began yelling. "When are you going to mow that jungle you call a yard?"

"How about when your wife shaves the whiskers!!!" Al smirked a bit, unlocked his front door and entered into a darkened house. He looked around a bit angrily and checked to see if the power company got the check. He flicked the light switch and the lights actually came on for him. Well, what do you know! The check cleared! He looked over to the stained yellow and orange sofa with his wife lying across it asleep. She was wearing leopard-skin Capri pants, a black blouse and was topped by a pompadour of crimson red hair. A mix of trailer-park trash with all the extravagances of redneck in breeding, she was the laziest almost-a-housewife that ever existed. Al looked at her with his Cro-Magnon brow turned into a disgusted grimace and his face contorted with angry contempt just picturing her laid out all and nice in a casket being rolled into a blast furnace. Better yet, nailed into a pine coffin kicking and screaming as it was being shoved off a ship! A bottle of beer from the six-pack in the refrigerator inhabited only by a box of baking soda, a mystery crumple of aluminum foil and a dead mouse, Al turned back from the kitchen and looked back to the woman on the sofa, giving the end of it a good sound kick to wake the woman on it. The red-haired nightmare of womanhood stirred and checked her cheap silver watch.

"Oh, god…" Her watch read 5:37. "That idiot's going to be home any second expecting me to cook…" She noticed she wasn't alone. "Oh, hi, Al."

"Peggy, please…" Al forced an unhappy smile. "In the privacy of our house, please call me Mr. Idiot." Peggy scooted aside to let him sit down by her. "A fat woman oozed into the shoe store today…."

Peggy rolled her eyes upon having to hear this.

"She was so fat that she could only sweat in gravy sauce." Al recalled the incident seared into his brain. "She was so fat that she looked like she had just eaten three other ladies. She was so fat that her double-chin had a double-chin!" Al looked to Peggy hoping for a bit of compassion. "She asked me if I sold any shoes, and I told her we had nothing larger than Peterbuilt…" He paused as if he was in a TV series allowing a burst of laughter from an imaginary TV audience as he rubbed his bald spot tiredly. "She tries to hit me with her purse, and two boxes of ding-dongs, half a pie, three baked potatoes, a wiener on a stick and a whole chicken came flying out of it. While she's scrambling to catch the ding-dongs, I grabbed the chicken and locked myself in the bathroom to have some lunch!"

"That's nice, Al…" Peggy sat there barely paying attention as her left leg bounced on her right. "So, I guess you got to go back to work tonight?"

"No…"

"Take me out to dinner!"

"Peg…" Al looked at him in complete disbelief. "We can't afford it!!! Bud keeps changing the password on his bank account!!!" He referred to his son who had a job as financial trader. Now thirty-two-years of age, Bud had graduated college in 1996 and had acquired a great job through his college contacts making just enough money to get by, but not enough to get a place of his own. He still lived at home with his parents and his sister, Kelly, who had stumbled through a series of brief modeling jobs and one acting job as dead body number three in a slasher flick. A role she still screwed up by smiling and waving at the camera. While the Bundy family curse was still trying to cling to Bud, it seemed to be centered on Kelly. Though she was still exceptionally attractive, her IQ still hovered between pond scum and kitchen linoleum.

"Hey…" Bud came wandering through the house after one of his co-workers dropped him off at home. It was a situation necessitated by Kelly driving his 1990 Plymouth Reliant into Lake Michigan, but he'd had his revenge by spreading the rumor that she used to be a guy. As the only barely succeeding Bundy, Bud traipsed behind his parents, looked at the empty six-pack in the fridge and turned round to his father.

"You got the last beer, didn't you?" He forced an annoyed smile.

"Uh, Bud…" Al looked to his son. "Your mother's wanting to go out. Can I have my allowance?"

"Didn't I just give you your allowance?"

"Well, your mother's very expensive!!" Al shot back as Peggy beamed and stroked her red bouffant.

"That's not my fault!" Bud shook his head disgustedly, pulled out his wallet and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. "I'm warning you, dad! I've almost got enough to put a down payment on a condo at the lake. I'll be looking out over dozens of hot young girls in bikinis, and I won't share with you the address! You'll never see me again! I'll change my name to Bud Smith!!"

"Bud," Al stood and tried to have a moment with his son. "I've got bad news for you. Celestial Acres is a retirement community. The only figures you'll see will be prune-shaped!" Al turned and started following Peggy out to the old Dodge to go to dinner; they'd have to jump the battery off the Darcy's Mercedes again. Bud could only turn round disgusted and exasperated. As his parents rushed off to spend their allowance, someone else came slinking in to the house. Gliding in on two long legs wearing a black mini-skirt and violet off-the-shoulder blouse obscured by a leather jacket, Kelly noticed her parents rushing out and turned to Bud with her own hand extended. Bud just looked at her.

"Kelly," He looked to his vacuous big sister with the blonde hair. "You've been missing for three days. Where have you been?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Out there." She resisted his third degree, and he looked away wanting to scream.

"Kelly!" Bud was getting so tired of her. "I set up a job interview for you as a receptionist for an exercise studio! All you had to do was sit there and have people sign in. Did you even show up?!!"

"Of course!" The thirty-six-year-old airhead with the body of a Playboy centerfold traipsed over to the fridge, looked at the empty beer carton inside it and closed it again. "I even took the breast exam!"

"What breast exam?"

"The one the seventeen vice-presidents made me take!" Kelly reacted as if she was just now figuring out they was using her. "I think I kept failing it because they made me do it over and over and over…"

"I don't want to hear it!!!" Bud turned away covering his ears. He turned back again. "Did you get the job?"

"They gave it to Chelsea Baxter." Kelly posed a bit upset. "She's a forty double-d!"

"Yeah, I remember them… her! I remember her!!!" Bud composed a bit, sighed loudly and wandered over to the sofa from the kitchen to collapse off his feet. Sitting in his blue seven-dollar thrift store suit, the remnants of his teenage mustache and goatee on his face, he yawned and groaned simultaneously trying to deal with his life. He just couldn't take living in this house much longer. He needed help getting out and away from his parents begging for cash and his sister's idiotic escapades.

"Bud," Kelly came around the sofa with one of them now, sat prim and proper by his side and turned toward him wanting his advice. "I've got a problem."

"Wait till the contractions are ten minutes apart and then call 911!" Bud screamed ready to lose it.

"I'm not pregnant, Pimple Boy!!!" Kelly shot back. "Bud, I think I'm possessed!!!"

Bud lifted his head up off the back of the sofa. He was not sure he had heard her right.

"What?!!!" He asked her to repeat it.

"Bud," Kelly spoke seemingly concerned. "My friends and I went out to the old Pepsi warehouse off Route 666 and spent the night. We had a party and I passed out in the center of a weird symbol painted in the center of the floor. Ashley said that meant I was cursed. What sort of medicine should I take for that?"

"Kelly…" Bud rolled his eyes unable to comprehend he was having this discussion. "One, Ashley also believes she can fly if she wears a cape."

"Well, she did!!!" Kelly recalled that. "She flew for all of three seconds before she crashed!"

"Two…" Bud added. "A photo of Britney Spears is not a demonic symbol!"

"Well, she creeps me out!"

"And three," Bud humored her further. "If you are possessed, I'm sure he's very lonely in there for him!" He knocked his fist against her head as if her head was hollow then rose and turned round the sofa to head to his room. It was now Kelly's chance to look disgusted. She was not as stupid as everyone thought… just a little distracted at times.

"Bud!" She really wanted his advice. "Ashley said I could turn into something tonight! What should I do if I turn into something?!"

"Don't forget to wax your legs!!!" Bud called back from the top of the stairs. "Vampires really hate lady werewolves with hairy legs!" Bud staggered to his apartment upstairs in his parent's house and left Kelly alone to her crazy delusions. He used to live in the basement, but after the last big rain, it had flooded. Today, Peg called it the swimming pool in the basement. At his bedroom door, Bud had two deadbolts and a combination lock to his bedroom door plus a burglar alarm wired to the inside. Reaching in to switch off the alarm, he slipped inside and hung his jacket on a coat rack to the inside, closing his door behind him. He reached to his mini-bar and took out a can of Pepsi and one of the sandwiches he purchased from the gas station. Dropping onto his bed, he flicked on his TV-VCR combo to Spike TV to catch the tail end of an episode of CSI. If he had known forensics would be so cool, he'd have followed that line of work. Thirty-two years old and his life was not where he thought it would be. He wasn't sure if he believed in a Bundy curse, but he had to admit that there was something about his life that kept him from moving on and being completely independent. Sipping his soda, he drifted his gaze over to his blow-up woman and wanted to set it afire. He was a decent guy; why couldn't he get very far with women?!

This was the way his nights usually ended. He always drifted off to sleep barricaded in his room hiding from his parents and regretting the life he never had. While he never had the sort of "four touchdowns" thing his father had, he now understood why it was the last and only crowning achievement that the old man had. He didn't even have that. No girl in his life, a job that only left him partially fulfilled, parents and a sister hanging on his salary… he was the only thing keeping them afloat, and he was ready to jump ship the second things turned into his direction.

Gradually, Bud became influenced by the night blanketing the house and drifted off to sleep. Waking up just to flick off his TV and light, he soon drifted off to sleep once more. The house was quiet. His parents might not have made it home yet. There was no whining from his father as his mother wanted sex. There was no rusting from the side of the house by the dregs or future America's Most Wanted candidates climbing it and out of his sister's bedroom window. For once, Bud appreciated the silence, but still, he half-expected the distance furtive "Aw, Peg…" from across the hall or Lucky scratching at his door because he was "participating" with Isis, his blow-up girlfriend. Stupid dog. Kelly had shredded Isis months ago to make a latex halter-top.

A creak forced Bud to lift his head and he looked at his door through sleepy squinty eyes. It sounded as if someone was at his door. It was either his father stealing food from his mini-fridge, his mother trying to find his checkbook or Kelly trying to humiliate him again. That was why he now slept in his clothes. Looking over, he peered sleepily over the shadowy expanse of objects that was his private sanctum and figured it was another of the creeps and groans from a fifty-year old house that had been flooded, blown up and even hit by lightning. Settling once more, Bud closed his eyes, rolled to his side and tried to dream of a life where he had a girlfriend and an apartment of her own.

The creak happened again. This time it was much more obvious as if something was in the room hovering over him. Bud rolled again and looked over the shadows of black, dark gray and blue. From under his bedroom door, there was a shadow bobbing back and forth blocking the light. He watched it for a few seconds rolling back and forth as if someone was hovering just outside his room.

"I haven't got any money!!!" He moaned tiredly. "Leave me alone!!!" His voice bellowed and his body flipped over and dropped into his bed. Scowling into his sleep, Bud sighed tiredly waiting for sleep to once more take him. He practically felt the darkness looming over him. The room was getting colder. He could feel his breath turning to mist. Something in his head was screaming at him to get out of the room. He wasn't asleep yet and yet he was having a nightmare. From over him, he heard that creak again as if from the straining rope of a hangman's noose and then a distant plaintive gasp. Was someone in his room? He never even heard the door or saw the light from the hall filling the room. That creepy crawly feeling was dancing up and down his back. His imagination stirring him to new and deeper fears, Bud lifted his head and looked around his room. The light was off in the hall now and gone with it was the sliver of light under his door. The moonlight lit up his picture of Christina Aguilera, making her the star of his own mental sexually explicit horror movie in his head along with Lindsay Lohan, Ashley Tisdale and Christina Ricci. The rest of the room was getting darker. The cold air made the hairs on his arm and shoulders stand at attention. There was no AC in this house; why was it so freaking cold? Feeling eight-years old again, Bud turned back on to his left side and noticed a face eye-level with him in the dark.

Her eyes filled with inky black darkness, Kelly clamped her right hand over Bud's mouth to keep him from screaming and pinned him to his bed. His voice screaming into the palm of her hand, he felt her knee buried to his chest and watched through wildly hysterical eyes as Kelly reared her demonic features back, her long blonde hair cascading down her back, and opened her mouth to several sharp pointed teeth like that of a human shark. Her weight crushing the breath from her brother's body, she opened her mouth wide to that horrible gullet, her lips peeling back from those horrible fangs and reared forward burying her bite deeply into her brother's neck…


	2. Chapter 2

2

True to routine, Peggy rose the next morning to see Al out of the house and away from her. She didn't care where he went as long as he came back. A brief morning smoke and she tried to empty some dog food into Lucky's bowl, but nothing came from the bag. Lucky waited and watched as Peg shook and tried to rattle a caught grain from the bottom of the bag, but after a few shakes, Peggy gave up, tossed the bag away and shimmied over to watch TV. With that, Lucky strutted out the back door to knock over trashcans for food.

Upstairs, things were far from normal. Bud's locked bedroom door usually meant he was back to work, but inside the room surrounded by posters of female rock stars and stacks of DVDs was something unique for the room… a naked blonde woman stretched out alone in the bed. A sleepy groan from her lips, and Kelly tried lifting herself up, failing and falling back down once more. Lying sideways over the bed, a twisted bed sheet over her back, one leg stretched off the side and her head and arms draped over the other side, her thoughts swam and churned in her head as if she was drunk. What had happened to her last night? Last thing she recalled was talking to Bud on the sofa and then someone else coming into the room and she was coming upstairs with them and… something happened after that. Her mouth tasted like pimple cream. What the heck was she eating last night? Propping herself up on one arm, she looked around where she was a recognized the chick posters on the wall, the collection of Playboys, the female superhero figurines and realized where she was if not the why. This was Bud's room!! How'd she get in here?!!! Both appalled and creeped out, she hoped she had not done what she had thought she did. She jumped back on to her feet, spun round trying to get out and slammed into the door trying to get through it. Stumbling backward, she remembered to unlock and turn the doorknob before racing to her own room.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…." She scurried down the hall to her bedroom. Downstairs, Peggy lifted her eyes up from Oprah on the TV to the noises over her head.

"Kelly, is that you?!!!"

"Yes, mom!!!" Kelly found herself back into her clothing strewn bedroom with bras and underwear hanging from the bed and fixtures. She grabbed the first top she found and started pulling it over her head. It seemed tighter than she recalled. Both her arms struggled through it at the same time as she pulled it down over her chest and then a bit further. It felt as if it was made for a five-year-old! As she pulled her hot pants on, they too resisted slipping on easily. What was going on here?! She felt the stitches of her top pulled tightly trying to keep her covered as she turned to the reflection of Anna Nicole-Smith in her mirror. Wait a second… that was… her!!

It was her face, but it was not her body nor was it her size. Usually when she stood before her mirror, there was a good few inches between her five-foot-five height and the top of her refection, but this morning, the top of the mirror cut off the top of her reflection. She had grown!! She was not just taller; she was much more filled out! She had a lot more size and curves on her this morning. Her eyes widened in shock at her reflection, her fingers lightly gliding over the surface of her face, her lips lightly parted to her breath. What had happened last night? Who was that person with her last night who took her up to Bud's room? Somehow, her thoughts began rushing back… there was no other person. It was her!! She had done something to her brother!

The TV remote flew from Peggy's hand when Kelly screamed. A bon-bon stuck to her lip, Peggy was jarred awake and started looking around and trying to catch her spilling chocolates. Behind her, Kelly came racing down the stairs at almost six-feet-tall and her new figure bouncing through her exercise outfit, more than a few stitches getting ready to pop.

"Mom! Mom!! Something happened to me!!!" She shook and pulled her mother off the sofa. "Look at me!!! Look at me!!! I'm an explosion all over!"

"Honey," Peggy adjusted and stroked back her red bouffant. "Don't be ridiculous. You've always had the Wanker family figure. It's just a growth spurt."

"Mom, I'm thirty-six years old!!!"

"Well, your cousin, Maddie Wanker, had a growth spurt at thirty-eight." Peggy sat back onto the sofa. "She was flat-chested all her life and then suddenly had a very nice figure."

"Mom!!!" Kelly was hysterical as she hovered stressed over her mother. "She had a baby by Uncle Oliver!!!" Kelly fretted and wandered in a circle from the sofa to the kitchen and back again. "Mom, I think I ate Bud last night!"

Peggy slowly turned her head from the TV toward her daughter as if she had not heard her right.

"Uh-huh…" Peggy reacted in disbelief. "Well… that's your father's side of the family!!!"

"Peg…" Al came marching into the house almost introduced carrying the mail and a small package. "Those nimrods at Extreme Makeover: Home Edition rejected the tape of our house again! Doesn't this house scream make-over?"

"Actually, I think it's screaming 'Clean me,' but, eh, what are you going to do?" Peggy mused and gestured with the remote with her leg bouncing with attitude over her other leg.

"Daddy, I need help!!" Kelly was screaming and crying for help and attention. "Look at me! I think I ate Bud last night!!!" He looked her over from the blonde hair, straining top, toned abdomen and long legs.

"Just like Cousin Ted…." Peggy added.

"Hey!" Al was still trying to spread the truth about that prison sentence around his relation. "Ted thought he was buying pure Grade "A" sirloins; he had no idea what they really were!"

"Al, he bought them from a guy selling them from the trunk of his car!" Peggy criticized Al's family of malcontents as much as criticized her hillbilly family. "He should have been suspicious when they smelled of cheap perfume and were wrapped in pantyhose!"

"Listen to me!!!" Kelly screamed loud enough that she almost blacked out. She stamped her foot, recaught her breath and looked at her parents. "I think I'm possessed. Last night, I turned into cannabis and ate Bud!" She looked at them again to be sure they had her attention. "How do you think this happened to me?!!!" She gestured to herself and shifted her weight to her other leg with a sway in gravity from her new chest.

"Well, tell you the truth, Kelly, I never really looked at you." Al answered.

"Al…." Peg finally rose and walked over to her daughter. "This is our daughter!" She stood with Kelly side by side and finally at the same height. "She's scared and confused. She needs our help…."

"Thanks, mommy…."

"Come on, honey….." Peg led her to the stairway. "I'll get you an aspirin." She turned to head up, but Kelly reacted upset and tore away from her. The former petite beauty struggled with the front door a second, pulled it open wide and stormed out of the house, off the front landing and into the neighborhood.

"An aspirin, Peg?"

"Well, it couldn't hurt…."

"She's getting fat, Peg." Al changed the channel to the Sports Channel. "That's your side of the family!!!"

"My mother is not fat..."

"Oh, please, she's got her own zip code!!!" Al shot back. "The county was built around her!!!"


	3. Chapter 3

3

Next door at 9766 Jeopardy Drive, Marcie Darcy had completely cut the Bundys out of her life in 1999. She was still friendly with Peggy, but she got tired of feuding with Al after he submitted her name as a candidate into the Merchant Marines. Not that that was the last straw, but she was also grossed out when Al's mother became obsessed that she was Al's long lost little sister. Hoping that wasn't true, she actually blamed him for killing the trees in her yard, decreasing the value of her property and ruining her first marriage. Not that she didn't love Jefferson her second much, but despite all the women in her support group that hated him, Al somehow brought out the worst male characteristics in Jefferson just as he did with Steven. When she exercised, she even turned her exercise bike away from the view of the Bundy house than have to stare at it. Hearing the rapping noise at her front door, she slid her petite frame off her bike, dabbed her face and slight figure (or what Al called "her boyish figure") off with her towel and traipsed through the house to answer her front door. Still perspiring, Marcy looked up to the very shapely young lady at her door in the straining top and hot pants and immediately had thoughts of castrating her philandering current husband, but then she looked again and recognized the crying young lady.

"Kelly?" Marcie took a second look. "You've grown out… I mean, up, since I stopped talking to your father."

"Mrs. Darcy…" Kelly's looked up with tear-strewn eyes and worriedly paced nervously on the front porch. "I need your help. I think I'm going to explode."

"Kelly, honey…" Marcy remembered another reason she had stopped going over to the Bundy house. The girl was an idiot. "You are not going to explode. That's just… stupid." She looked up to the girl's blue eyes filled with tears and extreme fear. "You're really scared here, aren't you? Come on in, honey…." She gestured the girl into her living room and sat down at her sofa. When she last saw this girl, she was five-foot-five, a hundred and ten pounds, blonde, attractive and as dumb as a brick, but now she was practically six feet tall, around a hundred and thirty pounds, very much more shapely and scared to death.

"Kelly," Marcie removed the towel from her shoulders and placed it by her side on the sofa. Kelly dropped down by her with her Anna-Nicole body. "How did you get like this? What's going on?"

"Mrs. Darcy…" Kelly sniffed a bit and rubbed her eyes. "I think I'm possessed by Britney Spears. Last night, I think I ate Bud because when I woke up this morning, I was exploding all over."

"Oh my god…." Marcie griped outloud a bit annoyed, looked away and wondered why she didn't see this coming. The girl was just as stupid as she ever was! "Kelly, what's the matter with you?! What has Bud been telling you this time?!"

"Look at me!!!" Kelly screeched and placed her hand to her bosom. "These aren't mine!!!!"

"I'm going to do what your parents should have done." Marcie rose and moved over to her telephone. "Actually, what they should have done is put you in a special school, but you obviously need a doctor, that's what you need." She hit the speed dial for her gynecologist. "It's possibly just a hormone thing." She heard the doctor's admissions secretary answer first and looked back to Kelly a second. As Marcie started making an emergency appointment, Kelly felt a chill dancing up her spine. It was almost as if a switch was thrown in her head. Where she once felt fear and distress, something else, someone else was moving in. Her head lifted up with a new bearing, a new purpose… Her left eyebrow cocked a bit, a sinister grin began emerging on her face and she looked over to Marcie talking on the phone. She began slowly rising up to her feet, an evil grimace upon her lips and a look of sheer determination and demented purpose taking hold of her. Her hands brushed her long hair back than turned and glided down the sides of her new figure.

"Kelly," Marcie looked up. "You're luck. Dr. Willows had a cancellation today. I told her it was an emergency, and… Kelly, why are you looking at me like that?" Kelly lowered her head and started kissing her. At first, she was unaware what she was doing, but then Kelly's tongue came through her lips and her hands started pulling her closer. What was going on here?

"Kelly!!!" Marcie pushed her off. "What are you doing? I don't swing like that." She noticed something odd in the girl. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Marcie backed against the wall next to her staircase. Kelly was looking at her as if she wanted something from her. She bent her head unnaturally to the side and cracked the muscles in her neck before straightening up again. There was a new personality in that face, a new demeanor as if she was… possessed?

"Kelly, this isn't funny!" Marcie backed away afraid. "I want you to stop acting like this... this very minute! You came here for help! Not to chase me through my own house!!!" The younger girl barely responded except to follow her backing up the stairs. Out of no where, Marcie became afraid and turned to race to her bedroom with the other phone to get her parents over to get her, but when she looked away, Kelly pushed her to the floor on the top landing and started climbing over her. Marcie looked again at her eyes. They were solid black.

"Kelly!!!" Marcie kicked the girl to the chest and sent her flying over the top railing. She then turned and raced for the master bedroom for her life, grabbing the door and pulling it shut behind her. Looking back briefly, she witnessed the insane. Kelly had actually floated back up over the top railing of the staircase and had landed on her feet; that was all the proof she needed that the girl was possessed! She dashed into her bedroom, locked it and started dialing next door for Al and Peggy to come over and get their daughter then changed her mind and started dialing 911. She was barely dialing the second "one" when Kelly broke down the door, looked at her with those demonic eyes and lifted her off her feet. Marcie hit the wall hard, bounced off of it and crashed to the floor. When she landed, Kelly pounced on her and climbed on top of her.

"Kelly, what are you doing?!!" Marcie felt the girl sitting on her, rearing her head back and parting her lips to rows of sharpened shark-like teeth. She tried fighting, but she couldn't lift her legs. The younger girl was stronger, much more stronger with the demonic energies she was channeling. Her arms held down over her head, Marcie whined and squirmed trying to break free as the younger blonde succubus took her. Outside the house, a finely tuned Mercedes turned into the driveway, paused as the garage doors opened remotely and then pulled inside the house. His head bobbing to Britney Spears on the radio, Jefferson Darcy beamed happily, mugged and swayed to the music as he admired the fine example of German engineering under his command. It was a beautiful car, and as he admired and polished it, he enjoyed his own reflection in the chrome. Even getting out of the car, he lightly closed the door than slam it, and as he headed into the house, he looked back once more at the car and then entered through the doorway to the living room.

"Hey, Marcie…" He called out. "I got my Mercedes back, but Klaus is going to have your's for three months. Stupid Al. I'm going to have to ream him for smacking into your car." He lied. He loved it whenever Al smacked into Marcie's Mercedes because he hated letting her do the driving. He much preferred doing the driving himself. Crossing the bottom landing of the staircase, he paused and listened. It sounded as if his skinny little wife with the boylike hair-cut and hairdo was getting a massive workout with the moans he was hearing from the upstairs.

"Marcie, what are you doing up there?" He paused and listened again. Her moaning sounds were a bit odd. It was as if she was dong something other than pedaling that stationary bicycle in the front bedroom.

"Well, I can give you a work out…" Jefferson pulled off his designer shirt and tossed it off. Giggling romantically to himself, he picked up a bottle of champagne from the bar, two crystal glasses and briefly checked his hair before going off to make love to his wife. This time, he'd imagine she was Jessica Simpson. Smiling his dashing grin, he danced like the lucky husband he was up the stairs and strutted toward his bedroom looking forward to what he was getting, but what he actually saw was enough to stop his heart. He lost the smile, dropped the glasses and champagne and backed in fear to the wall outside the room.

Blonde and larger Kelly Bundy was sitting on the floor looking at him over her shoulder. Sticking out of her back was Marcie's face and two hands getting absorbed into her body. The blonde succubus now rose up and attacked Jefferson in the hall outside the room…


	4. Chapter 4

4

Al once more headed home. The Dodge had stalled on the by-pass again and he was using gravity and momentum to once again coast it down Jeopardy Street, through the Cleaver's bushes, over the Brady's yard, taking out the Huxtable's mailbox and nearly scaring to death Mr. Taylor's aunt as she walked home from Foley's Market on the corner. His wide turn even tore away some of the police tape around the property of the Darcy House next door. They had vanished two days ago when Marcie's boss got angry when she didn't come to her job at the bank. Although there weren't any signs of foul play in the house, the police had no reason to explain why they should suddenly vanish.

Inside the house, Peggy heard Al slamming his car door and his steps coming up the walk and on to the porch. The doorknob rattled and Al wandered in carrying his jacket over his left arm. Peggy was not alone this time. His buddies from the neighborhood were present to meet him. Bob Rooney was from their bowling team as was Ike Turner with the name like the celebrity. They both lived a few streets over in separate directions. With them was Officer Dan Freeman, another crony from the lot who just happened to be a police officer. Freeman was both one of Al's friends and an officer of the law. Dan used to bust Al a lot for his shenanigans, but over the years, they had sort of bonded over the things they had in common.

"Hey, Al…" Dan greeted for the lot of them.

"What did I do this time?" Al looked slightly annoyed. "You promised to warn me if I had another warrant on me."

"It's not about you, Al." Bob postured over from the kitchen. "It's about Jefferson and Marcy. They weren't visiting her mother."

"Yeah," Ike confirmed it as Al looked up. "Dan's been going through the block asking the neighbors if they saw anything suspicious on the day they were last seen."

"You mean besides Al peeing in their bushes or entering their back door to raid their refrigerator." Peggy sat on the sofa and responded honestly.

"Or me digging a hole in the backyard the exact size and dimensions of a certain red-haired wife." Al turned his head toward Peggy to warn her to shut up.

"We know all about that stuff!" Dan admitted. "Al, we know you didn't kill the Darcys. The fact is… if you haven't killed Peggy after all this time, the captain figures you can't kill anyone."

Bob, Ike and Al agreed with that. Peggy just smirked a bit annoyed while watching TV.

"I resent the implications that Al…"

"Quiet, Peg, real men are talking." Al lifted his head up pretending to be interested. "Dan, what would anyone want with Jefferson? Or Marcy for that matter?"

"Al," Bob started talking. "Remember at our last NO MA'AM meeting? Jefferson said that he used to have ties to the Mafia, and that if anything ever happened to him, that it might be because of them."

"But he said that every time he got drunk to have sex with Marcie." Al recalled.

"But still…" Dan pulled out his pad to take notes and followed Al into the kitchen. "Al, if you have anything to add about that day, I need to hear it."

"I figured it out!" Bob slapped his hands together with an idea. "Maybe Marcie got tired of Jefferson, killed him and then went on the lam!!!"

"Or maybe Jefferson got tired of Marcie, killed her and then went on the lam!!!" Ike revised his theory.

"That works too." Bob drank one of Al's beers.

"But what's the motive?" Dan sat at the table with Al. "Where are their bodies?"

"Well, Dan," Bob scoffed and looked over to Ike. "We can't do all your work."

"Yeah, that's what wives are for." Peggy critiqued their efforts to come up with a thought.

"Here's a bigger mystery…" Al made a face of embarrassed hostility. "Why didn't they abduct Peggy with Marcie and Jefferson?!!" Al looked over to his wife annoyed, and she looked to him complacent about his frustration at her. "Dan, look…" Al turned back to the table. "I stopped talking to Marcie when she stopped coming over here, and the last time I saw Jefferson was the other day and he had now plans whatsoever."

"What about the kids?" Dan thought of Bud and Kelly. "Can I talk to them? They're always in someone's business."

"Bud finally moved out." Al spoke as he stood, walked around Ike and took a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. "And Kelly… Kelly?" He looked around to room. "Where is that girl?"

"Kelly floats from friend to friend these days before coming home." Peggy confessed. "We sometimes don't see her for almost a month!"

"How can I reach them?" Dan asked.

Al and Peggy just shrugged their shoulders.

"Hey, I think Kelly got a job at the Nudie Bar!" Bob mentioned out loud.

Al and Dan looked to Bob as Ike slapped his own head in utter disbelief. Even Peggy looked over a bit upset.

"That wasn't Kelly!!" Ike reminded him. "That was another blonde bimbo."

"Al…." Dan looked from them and back to Al. "You don't know where your kids are?"

"Why should I?" Al responded. "They always turn up…" He looked to Dan. "Eventually…."

"I'll get a Missing Persons report out on her too." Dan started thumbing through his pad and found another one. "Hey, did we ever find that Seven kid?" He looked at the slip, tore it out and threw it away over his shoulder. "Al, I've got to go…" He rose from the table as Al, Bob and Ike followed him to the door. "Look, if you can think of anything that might be linked to Jefferson or Marcy, call me and let me know…"

"Hey, what about Kelly?" Peggy looked up.

"Or Kelly…." Dan added. Al just shrugged it off and walked Dan out of the house. Peggy looked over to the other two simpletons. Ike and Bob were two of the worst cronies Al held out with. Neither of them was in very good shape and the only thing that had in common were menial jobs. Bob was a plumber, and Ike sorted vegetables at the market.

"So…" Bob looked around, to Peggy and then up to Al. "What to next?"

"The Nudie Bar?" Ike suggested the local strip club.

"The Nudie Bar!" Al cheered them. "Where the drinks are flat, but the dancers never are! The Nudie Bar!!"

"Where the ladies strut your stuff while you see their stuff! The Nudie Bar!" Bob chanted along.

"Al!!!" Peggy grew disgusted and jumped to her feet. "What about our daughter?"

"What better place to start looking for her?!" Al opened the door to Ike and Bob. "Why I bet Jefferson's already there and celebrating Marcie's disappearance!" He turned and followed his best friends and former NO MA'AM members out of the house. Peggy just dropped to her seat and turned back to Oprah for answers. Dan had already pulled away from the house to head to the police station. He knew enough about Kelly to fill out the report for her himself and to sign it in his name. Someone that stupid could easily fall prey to foul play. The mere fact it never happened years ago just seemed more proof that it had become even more inevitable. He took a known photo of the girl from her modeling site and applied it to a Missing Poster he then faxed across the area and country. Through the modem, the missing blonde's likeness was sent to police departments in Los Angeles, Detroit, St. Louis, Miami, Las Vegas, Seattle and New York City where it joined the stack of several other missing girls. Police scientist Lindsay Monroe noticed the photo as it was collected and tacked with the others to the board. Detective Don Flack came through looking for the head of the CSI department.

"Hey, Mac," He attracted the attention of Mac Taylor, a former Army officer now New York forensic detective. "The address for that John was a deserted condo slated for demolition. No one has lived there in over a year."

"Whoever this guy is has covered his tracks very well." They were discussing one of several cases on their books right now. "What about Councilman Gaynor? Did we get a sketch of the girl he vanished with?"

"Yeah…" Flack opened his file for the case. "Blonde, almost six-feet-tall, around 130 to 135 pounds, very well… proportioned. Could be sporting implants, I thought about sending her likeness around to all the plastic surgeons in the area."

"Good lead." Mac consulted the pathology file on another case, but as he looked around something caught his eye. It was the top Missing Poster that Lindsay was carrying. The photo looked very familiar. He slid it out of from under the cute lab tech's arm and compared it to the girl last seen with Gaynor. The faces were similar but not the heights or dimension. The Chicago girl was five-foot-five, not almost six-feet-tall, but then she could have been wearing heels and the witness description could be off.

"Hey," Mac held up the Missing Poster from Chicago with the local Wanted Poster. "Does anyone besides me see anything alike with these two faces?"


	5. Chapter 5

5

In New Orleans, someone had claimed that there were zombies wandering around after an old slave cemetery was bulldozed for a strip mall. In Underground Seattle, tourists said they spotted specters in period costumes. Down in Tennessee, inhabitants near Castalian Springs claimed that a headless horseman was chasing motorists off Highway 31, and in Saddleback, Texas, Bigfoot sightings were on the increase. The one thing all these cases had in common were brothers Sam and Dean Winchester who traveled the country exploring and researching tales and newspaper accounts that bordered on the paranormal and sometimes the mysterious. While they were examining the Old Cyrus House in Osment, Connecticut, they received an anonymous letter from New York City telling them that that a possessed woman from Chicago was behind at least seventeen disappearances in the Lower Manhattan area. The two paranormal adventurers had not been in New York City for almost a year, but the letter and the newspaper clippings for the last five disappearances had them coming.

"Forty more miles for New York City." Sam was doing the driving. "What do we do when we get there?"

"I was checking the map and pin-pointing the cases." Dean looked at the map of the Greenwich-Waverly Place area. "Several of the locations are located around these deserted buildings. I did a web search for them and they used to belong to an old Mafia figure named Jake "The Snake" DioGuardo. Rumor has it he had an illegal bootlegging business in the basement with all these secret passageways. It's a perfect place for a powerful paranormal to hide."

"We've never been up against a possessed woman before." Sam was thinking as he was driving. "I mean… ghosts, sure. Bigfoot… obviously. Demons, okay. An odd vampire or werewolf? Not a problem, but a possessed girl from Chicago? We're not priests!"

Dean looked back to the back seat of their car filled with Bibles, crosses, crucifixes and water rifles filled with Holy Water. Yes, they were not holy men, but sometimes he felt like he was waging a Holy War.

"We're halfway there." He mumbled under breath as they entered the Lincoln Tunnel on their way to Manhattan. "That succubus in Salem, Oregon was technically a possessed woman."

"Yeah, but she died twice before we laid her to rest." Sam recalled Angela Franklin from Hull House Mortuary. "She was a succubus by time we got to her." Sam watched the traffic carefully in the tunnel. "I just hope we've got to this other one before she's reached her peak strength. I do not want to come up on her and get tossed through a window again."

"Just remember this time…" Dean was reviewing his past cases with female supernaturals. "Don't let her touch you. If she can hold on to you for longer than five seconds, she's going to drain off your soul and turn you into a corpse."

"I don't think all female demons work like that."

"What else can they do?"

"You don't want to know." Dean leaned back into his seat. "I read about one from 1875 that could absorb whole bodies." His brother looked back at him. "Allegedly she reached nine feet tall before they killed her." He noticed the faint light of dusk as they reached the end of the tunnel on Manhattan. He looked around the surface streets at the other drivers as his brother turned toward the Greenwich Village exit and subsequently stopped at a stoplight. He looked out and around their car. Outside of their vehicle was the van for the Atlantic Paranormal Society parked at the same light. Dean looked up to Jason Hawes at the wheel then over to Grant Wilson by him; they looked back at them, and the light changed and they parted for different cases. That was the closest they had ever come to actually meeting.

"Was that?" Sam noticed them too.

"I think it was." They had pulled ahead and continued heading forward past the signs for Waverly Place and Tribeca Prep. Along the way, they passed the Waverly Street Sub Shop, turned at a corner through a one-way street and found rows of older less maintained streets where kids sat and gossiped on front stoops. Another street over were rows of shops under vacant and unused buildings. Dean pointed out the address they were heading for, and Sam pulled into the parking lot of an office building to leave their vehicle. Now on foot, they piled up with all the tools they thought they'd need. Crosses, Holy Water, a sawed-off shotgun with pellets of pure silver mixed with rock salt… Sam skirted a vehicle as he crossed the street for DioGuardio's former tavern. It had once been an ice cream shop, a Chinese restaurant, an Italian place and a hide out for a young entrepreneur named Max Russo. Dean peeked a gaze around the sign that read "Future Site For Doofenschmirtz Industries" and looked to Sam gesturing him around to the back door through the alley. The two of them looked over the litter-strewn alley with stray cats and rusty trashcans and strong-armed their way through the back door. Dean closed the door behind them then followed his brother to the basement. Except for the ceiling high gutter windows, it was dark. The shelves were bare except for forgotten soda cans, plastic bottles and faded dusty newspaper on the floor. Sam looked around the walls for a secret Mafia hidey-hole.

"How are we going to find this underground passageway?" Dean wondered.

"With this…" Sam took out a labeled spray bottle from his pack and began spraying the floor at their feet. The floor was dusty, but when he shone the blue light on it, he noticed their footprints lighting up. There were several slender footprints other than their own. The most of them were overlapping in a path for the wall under the back door above. Shifting his gear, Sam placed the spray and light in his pack once more and reached with gloves on for the rusty iron shelf. He expected it to resist his pulling, but it was surprising easy to open up. He turned toward his brother behind him as the empty dark void opened like a dusty maw ready to swallow them.

"Enter freely and of your own will." He quoted Bram Stoker from the novella, "Dracula."

"Said the spider to the fly." Dean made another literary reference and pushed forward into a space barely two feet wide running left and right for them. He shot his light down to the right where it hit a solid brick wall and then over Sam heading in the other direction. They passed an old underground cellar filled with forgotten liquor. Dean took a bottle of ale to sample, but one swig of the aged brew was enough for him. It tasted like cobwebs and rat droppings. The old wine tasted like cheap grape juice. Sharing it with his brother, they followed the passage as it dipped and went even lower to a deserted subway under the street above them. There was nothing but darkness as the brothers swapped to infra-rd goggles and light sensitive detectors. Anything cold appeared in blue while anything hot appeared white to them. Through them, both vampires and zombies appeared as dull gray. Demons and people who were possessed appeared a bright pink while true ghosts varied from dull orange to faded white. Everything else like cryptids and werewolves exuded their heat in hot white.

The tunnel was extensive. The tracks were nearly pristine despite not being used in over forty years, but there were signs of subways workers and wild animals. Dean wandered along singing the Mickey Mouse Club theme song to keep from getting scared. After seven times, his brother had enough.

"Please!!!" He sounded upset. "If I hear M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E one more time, I'm shooting you with rock salt!"

"Fine." Dean drew quiet. "But it's not the worst song I could sing. The most obnoxious song I could sing in the world is that theme to the Chili's Restaurants. You know how it goes, I want my baby-back, baby-back, baby-back, baby-back, baby-back…"

"No…" Sam disagreed. "The worst song you can get stuck in your head is the Macarena. I'd like to shoot with rock salt whoever wrote that!"

"I'm with you there, brother." They shared a brotherly hug and broke apart business as usual. They continued searching the tunnel. "Of course, if I hear "It's A Small World After All," I'm breaking a bottle over someone's head."

"I hate that one too." Sam's mind turned back to The Mickey Mouse Club. "Did you ever notice on the old Mickey Mouse Club on how the first letter and last letter of Annette's name on her t-shirt started to vanish around the sides of her chest when she was on the show."

"Why do you think I taped those episodes?!" Dean confessed and stopped. They had come across a large chamber of crossing tracks. Two hundred feet above was a grate of light shooting down toward them. Signs of graffiti and homeless people filled the underground room. Sam noticed another pack and hastened over to check it out. It had clothes, a canteen of water, ragged dog-eared books and a walking stick on it. It was the sort of thing a homeless man might have carried. Sam looked to his brother and removed his goggles.

"Someone's been eating down here." He announced.

"All of him?" Dean answered. "How can we fight something like that?"

"With this…" Sam pulled out his secret weapon. It was an old army grenade he had filled with rock salt and black powder. "If she's bigger than seven feet, I'm force-feeding her." He caught a noise his left ear from the cross-tunnel. He noticed a waft of blonde hair vanishing through the dark and reached for his rifle. Swearing under his breath, Dean placed the grenade in his pouch ready to use it last minute and pulled his rifle with the flashlight taped to the end. Brother looked to brother ready to purge the world of the living from dangers to it. They were ready to die for each other. They ran side by side out of the darkness as something round flitted through the shadows, ricocheted off the wall and hit Dean off his feet. The darkened chakram bounced off another wall ready to strike Sam blasting at the shadow racing around him, but he ducked it by grabbing ground and spinning round firing his second round. He then began grabbing more shells to reload.

"Sam, watch your back!!!" His brother vaulted around to the slippery figure flying around them. She was using advanced martial arts against him. She had kicked his rifle out of his hands with one foot and knocked him disoriented with her other foot. She was smaller and quicker than they expected. Dean posed and took aim with his rifle to protect his brother, but the petite blonde jumped straight up out of his sight at let the blast ht the wall. It was a lot of noise for nothing. Reloading his weapon, Sam noticed the blonde topped shadow coming at him. His weapon was knocked from his hands by the skirting female presence. Dean's weapon jammed. Something hit him to the chest, and someone's legs crossed over his ribs. He looked up through two thighs pinning him down and discovered the most beautiful perfect face he had ever seen. She had a perfect face, round baby-doll blue eyes, ruby-red lips parted over her white teeth a long flowing blonde hair. He recognized her! She reared a stake toward him.

"You!" She screamed at him.

"Hey, it's little Miss Sunnyside…" Sam recaught his bearings and lifted himself to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"Would you please stop calling me that?" Paranormal investigator Buffy Summers from California caught her error and lifted herself up, pulling Dean up to his feet as well. She recalled these two guys from when they were in her hometown. "I get the feeling you're here for the same reason I am." She looked them back over. "The possessed blonde from Chicago."

"You got an anonymous letter too?" Dean asked.

"What anonymous letter?" Buffy wandered to the wall and pulled out from the wall the Chakram of Xena she had inherited. It was a wonderful weapon passed down from a forgotten Greek Amazon of the First Century. Behind her, Sam pulled the letter out from his back pocket. Dropping her stake back into her backpack, the female vampire killer draped her long blonde hair behind one ear and took a look at the note. It was written on a strip of wrapping paper from a sandwich place. Written in bold letters from a thin marker, it read, "Guys, the blonde girl from Chicago is here in NYC near Greenwich and Waverly Place. Her name is Kelly Bundy, she is very possessed and very dangerous. I believe she is behind the disappearances of as any as seventeen people in the area. For reasons I cannot go into, I can't get involved. Please stop her before she gets to be too powerful." There was no signature.

"Who sent you this letter?"

"We don't know." Dean confessed. "We think it's our father sending us on cases."

"The handwriting looks too amateurish for a grown up. Maybe a teenager…" She sniffed the paper. "One who works making sandwiches…"

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked Buffy. "Last I checked you killed vampires… or whatever those things in Sunnyside were supposed to be."

"I've been expanding." Buffy turned and strutted through the underground tunnels. "Vampires, werewolves, succubi, evil spirits… Even got to meet Hades, god of the dead…"

"We got to meet an angel…." Dean tried to top her. "She looked like that actress…."

"Roma Downey…" Sam added.

"Lucky you…" Buffy was more interested in killing Kelly to stop her from killing anyone else. "Look, can you guys stay out of my way? I need you two amateurs getting in my way."

"Amateurs?" Sam took offense. They followed Buffy toward the upper tunnels she had come up in. "We're not amateurs! We're trained in killing more things than you are, Little Miss I-Hunt-And-Kill-Vampires!!"

"Really," Buffy turned round on her heel to mock them. "Well, at least I got in here without getting the attention of the NYPD."

"We did not attract the attention of the New York Police Department!!" Dean announced.

"NYPD!!! Put down your weapons!!!" Detective Don Flack and Detective Mac Taylor swarmed them with five other police officers. One minute they were following forensic evidence for Kelly Bundy into these old Mafia tunnels and then next, they heard the rifle shots and sounds of the skirmish. Buffy had been through this before. She placed her hands up and beamed knowingly to the Winchester brothers. Dean gave up his shotgun and pack at the same time his brother lost his. Buffy lost her chakram, crossbow and stake-filled backpack. Detective Mac Taylor looked Sam over then reached into his pouch and found the grenade.

"Son," Mac looked seriously annoyed. "You do know this is a Class A felony."

"I do now."

"You boys got permits for these shotguns." Flack asked the question.

"They're up in our car." Dean held his hands up and looked to his brother.

"Excuse me…" Buffy was being handcuffed with the brothers. "But could you be careful with the chakram? It was passed down by a very old friend of mine!" She was led the closest way out through the Manhattan Line Subway above roaring through the adjacent tunnels. As the living departed the forgotten tunnel, it grew silent except for the above grounds sounds of traffic. The Long Island Expressway roared through another tunnel shaking dust and scaring the rats from their holes. Twelve feet off the ground, in the darkened eaves and recesses of the vaulted ceiling, Kelly Bundy peaked out safely waiting for night to cover Manhattan once more. She was physically perfect. Ethereally beautiful with long flowing blonde hair, perfect alabaster skin and a finely toned body that women fought with exercise and plastic surgery to attain, she turned her powerfully blue eyes to watch the brother and lady vampire-killer taken out and then crawled with unearthly power across the ceiling to the shaft leading to the street. Another hour and she'd be out in the open, and there was no one to stop her.


	6. Chapter 6

6

In this life in 1980, Sam Beckett was a skinny young sailor named Willie Gilligan. In his time of leaping in out of people in the time-stream, he had been doctors, lawyers, priests and businessmen of all types. His experiences had him floating through time between 1957 and the date sometime in the future when he was first shot into history. Through all these adventures sharing other people's lives, he had been guided by his best friend, Admiral Al Kalavicci, a hologram that only he could see. Through the Seventies, Gilligan had been stuck living an isolated existence on a then uncharted island with his mentor, Captain Jonas Grumby, scoutmaster and biologist Professor Roy Hinkley, millionaire industrialist Thurston Howell III and his wife, Eunice, movie star Ginger Grant and a cute Kansas farm girl named Mary Anne. Thanks to a small disc Sam had found in the lagoon as Gilligan, the castaways could finally get off the island.

"It works!!!" Hinkley screamed excitedly. "I got a signal! I fixed the radio!!!" The castaways screamed excitedly. The Skipper grabbed Sam to thank him and the other castaways thanked him for his good luck. In the last week with Sam living Gilligan's life, the skinny first mate had not screwed one thing up, but once he leapt back out, things were going to go back to what passed as normal on the island. Despite the cheering, Sam drifted away to Al watching from near the girl's hut.

"Al, does it work?" Sam looked over his invisible buddy in the Hawaiian shirt puffing on the cigar. "Do they get off the island?"

"Of course, they get off." Al gestured with his comlink attachment to his time in the future. "Now that Hinkley has the radio fixed, he predicts a storm that they now survive. It gets them swept into the shipping lanes and back to civilization. Howell even returns to the island to build a massive resort that is successful to this day through his son."

"I thought they didn't have a son."

"Don't listen to what the wife says." Al smoked his cigar and checked the Internet accounts the Professor described in his journal. "She's not exactly there. Of course, they have a son." He noticed something. "Gilligan and Mary Ann get married in 2005 after the Skipper passes away. They name their son after him."

"Gilligan and Mary Ann?" Al looked back to that cute Kansas farm girl. He always did suspect she was sweet on the first mate. "And Ginger and the Professor?"

Al was shaking his head. It was at that moment that Sam's neurons and maisons began charging and moving in time again. He and Gilligan exchanged places in time as Sam moved forward through history. He was never sure where he was going, but as the flashing lights passed away and he could see once again past them, he found himself sitting at a table before a young and very beautiful blonde girl. He thought he knew her from another leap. She was not extremely busty, but with those blue eyes and perfect face, she didn't need them.

"I'm a paranormal researcher." Buffy explained to the detectives interviewing her. "I was in that tunnel looking for ghosts."

"That's what you tell us…" Mac looked at her FBI file faxed to him by Agent Fox Mulder. "In the last ten to fifteen years, you've been connected peripherally to at least a hundred and seventy-five strange cases involving occult activities in the US and Canada." He paused and looked to Sam Beckett as Detective Flack. "What do you know about the disappearance of Councilman Gaynor?"

"Disappearance?" Sam reacted as Flack. "Oh boy…"

Buffy looked at him. Why were her senses suddenly reacting to him?

"I only know what I read in the newspaper." Buffy answered. "That he was last seen with a 'spectacularly-built' blonde woman." She leaned back in her chair. "I don't think I resemble even part of that description."

"You were found in the company of two men carrying a hand grenade." Mac responded and wondered why Flack was no longer interviewing Buffy. Behind that maison-enhanced disguise, Sam slowly realized he was a detective, but what was he here to do? Was he supposed to prove Buffy's innocence? Or was there something bigger at stake?

"We're not friends."

"You already said you knew them." Mac gestured to the officer in the room.

"Only by reputation…" Buffy rolled her eyes and was taken back to lock-up by the female officer leading her. Mac picked up the arrest file and headed out of the room with the person he thought was Detective Don Flack but in the identity of the man, Sam Beckett rose and followed him out to the hall and onward to the CSI lab. Along the way, he stopped and took a look of himself with Flack's face staring back at him. He was a big tall good-looking guy; the sort of person he thought might be a cop.

"So, what do you think?" Dr. Beckett started talking for Flack. "Do you think she's up to something?"

"Me?" Mac reacted surprised. "Where's that gut instinct of yours?" He poured quarters into the machine for a cup of coffee.

"I don't know yet." Sam had been police officers and detectives before, even people in the FBI and the CIA in his time-misplaced leaps, but on this occasion, his gut was telling him the girl was harmless. She had secrets, but she was not a threat. For the beginning of this leap, he had to play detective just finding out who he was and who the people were that worked with him. He had already met Mac, and it took him just a few moments to charm Stella Bonasera. Danny Messer and Lindsay Monroe were two more of the detectives working out of the CSI lab with him. They were all focusing on the disappearance of a local councilman named Leo Gaynor who had vanished a few days before.

"Mac…" Danny came up to them. Sam was present when Danny appeared running the lead on the missing girl. "I checked with the Chicago PD." He pulled up the missing file upon an interactive holographic simulation linked to their computer core. "Kelly Bundy, 34, vanished from her home on October 1 a few weeks ago. Her next door neighbors, Jefferson and Marcy Rhodes, also vanished at about the same time."

"So," Mac considered the coincidence. "Maybe she killed them and came to NYC where she carried out more murders."

"Except…" Sam was present doing Don's job. "The description of Bundy doesn't match the description of the girl seen with the councilman." Sam leaned over to compare the descriptions. "Bundy is five-foot-five and our suspect tops out at six-foot-tall. They may look alike, but it is physically impossible for anyone to grow five inches in height."

"She could be wearing heels." Mac wondered.

"No heels…" Danny revealed his clarification of the security footage.

"But other than that…" Mac continued. "They really look alike. Could she be an older sister?"

"Bundy is the oldest of two kids." Sam read the file. "She has a younger brother, but no one seems to be able to find him. His father says he moved out, but Chicago can't find him."

"Maybe they ought to be considering him another victim." Mac answered.

"They won't find him." Al Kalavicci popped up unseen to Danny and Mac.

"What?" Sam did see him.

"I said he could be another victim." Mac repeated himself.

"Bud Bundy was never found." Al took his cigar from his mouth and looked into his comlink. "He was last seen in his parent's house on October 1, 2007." Al moved away as Sam excused himself and headed to the empty interview room, pulling down the shade to hide himself talking to an invisible hologram from the future.

"At first…" Al continued. "His disappearance wasn't reported since he was saving money to buy into a condo; his parents just figured he'd moved out, but after the police failed to find him, there was a missing persons report filed on him. No trace of him nor his sister was ever found."

"So, I'm here to find them?"

"No…" Al shook his head. "Sam, Ziggy says you're here to save the life of Detective Taylor."

"What happens to him?" Sam looked over to Mac.

"Ziggy doesn't know." Al confessed. "The NYPD destroyed those records in some sort of cover-up, but whatever it was, it took out almost the entire block of Greenwich Village and Waverly Place on Friday, October 13, 2007!!! That's tomorrow! More than 1200 people lost their lives!"

"Oh boy….."


	7. Chapter 7

7

They had been arrested for alleged terrorist activities. First, they had been visited by Agent Sealy Booth of the FBI along with a FBI-hired psychiatrist named Dr. Lance Sweets, but after the brothers confessed to wanting to blow up a possessed woman who was possibly over twelve feet tall, Booth slid them under the purview of another FBI Agent named Fox Mulder who handled these X-File cases. After Mulder came and assessed the brothers, he was gong to hand off on them. In the meantime, Sam and Dean lay on the cots of their cells thinking and talking. Somewhere out in the city, Kelly Bundy was loose with a demonic force inside her, and they were the only ones who might be able to stop her.

"How many people do you think she's eaten?" Dean asked his brother.

"Technically…" Sam sat up and swung his feet off the edge of his cot. "She's not eating them; she's absorbing them like a giant sponge, adding their mass to herself and getting larger and stronger, like Samantha Tisdale in 1858." He stood and looked to his brother. "Her family lived in a house outside Port Haven, Georgia that had been built on top of a desecrated church and she got to be nine feet tall after absorbing her family. Kelly, she's been linked to the disappearances of at least seventeen people…."

"She's got to be huge!!!" Dean rolled round. "How can she hide underground at that size?"

"You saw those old tunnels…" Sam paced a bit. "The Army Corp of Engineers built them years ago to stand the test of time; they're as large as football fields. She's got plenty of room to stretch out as far as she wants until she breaks out and then…. Hell on Earth."

"No, wait…" Dean hopped down from the top bunk. "She wasn't that big when the Councilman vanished…"

"She was big enough, but, Dean…" Sam was quite a bit disturbed by this case. "We're talking homeless people, city employees, maintenance men, sewer workers, transit officials… she doesn't necessarily have to go out for sustenance. She's going to keep get bigger and bigger…"

"We have to break out of here!" Dean reacted eager to try. "Look, I'll start screaming and…."

"This is the New York City Police department." Sam stopped him. "They'll let you beat me up before letting us out."

"I could let you out."

"Who said that?" Sam then Dean turned round to the sudden extra figure in their cells and noticed a third person who had not been there before. He looked young, maybe around eighteen years old, wearing a Tribeca School Sweater and blue jeans with old sneakers. The brothers looked at each other then to their sudden guest.

"Where did you come from?" Dean asked.

"Oh, I'm Justin Russo…" The boy grinned and shook Sam's hand. "I'm the one who sent you the note."

"We took an assignment from a kid?!" Dean reacted.

"I'm eighteen years old!!!"

"Why us?" Sam wanted to know.

"Look," Justin took a deep breath. "I'm a wizard, a very good one, but not good enough to face off against that she-thing in the tunnels under my dad's shop. I discovered her by chance while practicing my spells, and my dad told me not to bother her, but he doesn't know how powerful she's getting. If anyone can destroy her, you guys can."

"Well," Dean looked to Sam and back to Justin. "If you're a wizard…" He smirked having a hard time believing it. "Why can't you face her?"

"Because…" Justin thought he had made himself clear. "If I tried confronting her and she absorbed me, she could get much more powerful much more quicker, and I can't risk that."

"Can't argue with that." Sam looked to his brother. "So, Justin… if that is your real name…" He sounded skeptical. Justin did not like the sarcasm. "Why don't use your magic and get us out of here?"

Justin just smiled, folded his arms before his chest and looked around. Dean and Sam looked around as well and heard the subway roaring past them beyond the wall. They were in the same chamber as before when they found Buffy. It was a cross-tunnel for two separate old forgotten subway tracks, a pinhole of sunlight several dozen feet above their heads to the street above. There was some illumination, but a lot more darkness spreading out around them. They began believing the boy's powers.

"Care to whip us up some explosives and our weapons?" Dean requested.

Meanwhile, back at their empty jail cell...

"Okay, guys…" Bailiff Bull Shannon from the courthouse was pulling duty for the police department as he came into the jail to claim the Winchesters. Accompanied by two police officers, he ambled over to the cell and began unlocking it. "I got to take you up to meet the other FBI guy…" He took his keys out to get the boys. "Let's go."

"Where are they?!!!" Fox Mulder and one of the officers noticed the empty cell.

Bull took a second look and looked again a third time in stunned shock. The two other guards with him began running and screaming, "Escape!" The big bald bailiff slapped his head in personal disgrace over his blunder.

"I'm really going to get it now…" He moaned.


	8. Chapter 8

8

It took only a few seconds for Beckett and Taylor to realize where the Winchester Brothers might have headed. With Sam's holographic partner giving directions through Sam to Mac, they were going to get there to catch the brothers. The only question was whether they would get there in time!

"I've got the shaft wired." Sam Winchester was hurrying with his brother to seal up the subterranean tunnels. As they wired and set up the explosives, they could hear Kelly moving around down there in the darkness. They weren't sure how big she had become, but she sounded huge. It sounded as if there were tidal waves moving around her in those old water channels. Dean wasn't interested in going down to investigate. He took his brother's word for it. After wiring the entry to the chamber with dynamite, they started rolling the line to set it off from a far. About seventy feet was good enough to be in a safe zone, even if it took up almost all of their line, but they knew for sure, sealing Kelly's access ways out was going to keep her trapped underground just as they imprisoned that T-Rex in the Tennessee Rocky Mountains. Taking out the plunger, Sam stood ready to set the detonator. He took the end of the wire and started threading it.

"Uh, Sam…."

"Okay, I'll let you set it off."

"Uh, no, Sam…." Dean started raising his arms.

"What are you doing?" The elder brother heard a noise and lifted his head. It was the sound made from a police revolver being armed and pointed at his head. He looked up to the sight of Detective Don Flack holding his gun on him. By his side, Detective Mac Taylor was also on the scene.

"Okay, son…" Mac wanted to see this end peacefully. "How about unwiring that plunger and passing it over to me?" He gestured with his gun to the young man.

"With all due respect, detective," Sam looked to his brother then to the image of Flack around Dr. Beckett. "There's too much at stake here. We have to seal up that tunnel!"

"Why don't we go back to the station and talk about it?"

"I don't think I can do that." Sam Winchester responded with urgency.

"Sam!!!" Al popped up again for Dr. Beckett. "Don't let them set that off! Ziggy says that these tunnels are so unstable that any explosion with set off a cascade of gas explosions and implosions to level almost the entire lower East Side of Manhattan into the river! The devastation will make 9-11 look like a weenie roast!!!"

"Give up the plunger, son." Mac did not know the truth, but he did realize the potential of the disaster. As Detective Flack, Dr. Beckett wandered slowly toward Dean to arrest him as Al watched the face-off unable to do anything.

"Sam…." Sam Beckett reacted to the younger man. "Whatever is down there, let us take care of it. That's what we're here for, so you don't have to do this." He tried to calm the brother. "Let me have that plunger."

"Detective!" Younger Sam held the fate of lower Manhattan in his hands. "You don't know what's down there! We have to seal it up!!!"

"Why don't you enlighten me?" Mac was reaching for the plunger. "I've got the time."

From two hundred feet below, Kelly gasped and brought the tunnels to life. It was as if the entire underground had come to life. She stirred and there was a light vibration under their feet. Both the brothers felt a shudder as if someone had walked over their graves. Mac looked over to Don's image over the time-misplaced doctor. Whatever it was that made that sound, it was far enough to not detect their presence, but big enough to make a noise that sounded through miles of tunnels.

"I think she's even bigger that we thought." Dean Winchester quipped to his brother.

"Al…" Sam Beckett turned to his holographic partner. "What was that?!"

"I don't know." Al was punching data into his comlink to computers in the future. "Ziggy!" He called to the computer core in his time. "Can you center me on that noise? What?" He looked to back to his best friend. "Sam, Ziggy's going nuts! She just keeps saying that something isn't physically possible."

"Keep trying!"

"Look, son…" Mac was inching toward Sam Winchester with the detonator to the dynamite. "Whatever you're trying to do, this ain't the way to handle it." The young man was palming the trigger, his nervous twitching coming close to forcing the contact to set off the explosive. Dean backed to the wall behind to the wall behind his brother, hands to his head, his heart and pulse racing over what was happening. Unseen to them all but the time-misplaced doctor as the detective, Admiral Al Kalavicci blinked out and reappeared more than two hundred feet below in a flooded former access tunnel. As his eyes focused to the darkness, he noticed huge waves pouring toward him. What the heck was it? How did a blue whale get buried down here? There was a vast waft of blonde hair hiding something. It looked like a bale of hay seven feet across and twelve feet high over his head in the partial light. It vaulted up out of the dark into the illumination and vanished again. A giant delicate white hand seven feet long with fingers like telegraph poles started moving toward the entrance. Al's eyes scrutinized to follow the length of the arm in the dark to its owner and saw two giant blue eyes peering forward from under those stalks of long hair. They reared up twenty to thirty, almost fifty feet over him. Despite the horrors of the Korean War and the Vietnamese death camps, Al felt like a tiny little boy scared to death.

"Sam!!!!" His voice screamed out of fear.

"Hand over the plunger!!" Mac ordered the older brother.

"Turn it over to him!" Beckett waved Flack's gun on the frustrated brother. Dean was getting frustrated. His brother was trying to save the world and something was coming up from hell. He heard the sounds of walls crumbling lightly and the rumbles of a massive entity coming toward them.

"We got to do this!!!" Sam Winchester insisted one last time and raced toward the dynamite to give his life. Dean tried to stop him as his brother twitched his wrist and with it completed a circuit. Right next to them, the hologram of Al Kalavicci was screaming.

"It's coming!!!"

Everything went at once. A massive reverberation filled their ears and turned the shadowy underground pitch black. Everything up top came down and everything under their feet vanished from under them. Clouds of dust billowed in every direction outward ahead of massive section of wall, brick, rock and earth. Behind it was a horrible thundering noise combined with countless implosions and explosions, rumbling from within the Earth, the creaking of hundreds of structures and homes, the snapping of electrical cables, the rushing of sewers flowing into subway tunnels and subways jumping tracks and roaring through walls and redirected untracked tunnels. Up on Waverly Street, the street cracked apart and started spreading up toward Central Park dropping cars underground and causing structures to topple forward. Several blocks away at the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse, Judge Harry T. Stone felt the building quake. In Greenwich Village, Brad O'Keefe and his fiancée, Lily Finnerty, felt the sidewalk sink five feet and start sliding underground. In the Waverly Station Sub Shop, Jerry Russo stopped the lesson he was giving his kids and felt the entire shop shifting off its foundation. At a crime scene on Park Avenue, Danny Messer and Detective Sipowitz arched their heads at the clouds of dust and smoke erupting from underground from the gas pipe explosions. It was like a series of underground bubbles popping and exploding in sequence dropping entire blocks, leveling whole buildings up to and just south of the island. The Hudson River began pouring into the Lincoln Tunnel as another branch roared down Canal Street, poured through Madison Square Garden and created a lake at the site of the former Tribeca Prep structure. A riot of people began rushing through the streets and parents grabbed up children, watched shaking buildings and creeks and rivers of water pouring through Greenwich Village, washing out the inhabitants of markets, dropping whole apartment buildings in balls of dust and hurricane sized clouds of fire, flame and burning trees. An entire quarter of Lower Manhattan was disappearing in less than half an hour. People at computers, others barking at traffic, cooking in their homes, watching TV, shopping in stores, walking along sidewalk… they all suddenly blinked out while the few survivors were hit by reverberations and trapped in rivers pouring underground and around continuing gas explosions. As the front of his shop vanished, Jerry Russo hurriedly pushed his family to safety through a mystical portal in a secret room of his home.

"Where does it go?!!!" Harper Finkle held on to him.

"Elsewhere!!!" Jerry was standing on a five-inch section of floor and dangling his son, Max, off his left arm from above the underground lake that used to be their basement. Jumping over the space of missing floor through the portal of solid white, Harper followed her best friend Alex Russo into interdimensional space. Hearing the loft over his head creaking further, Jerry swung his son ahead of himself and jumped through himself as the creaking portal winked out around him. As the white dissipated, the surviving Russo family and friend found themselves in a study of museum proportions, a concerned figure in regal robes with a white beard and angular cap was looking upon them.

"Jerry," The bearded school magistrate who ran Hogwarts School for Wizards and Witches near Hogsmeade Station, Scotland looked upon them. "Did something happen?"

"Professor Dumbledore…" A bit dirty and covered in aches and injuries, Jerry lifted up his wife and daughter from his floor. "Something happened…."

"Don!!!" Deep under the remains of Waverly Place in a sunken tunnel mired with clouds of dust, Mac Taylor was holding on to Detective Flack by the arm. Acting as the misplaced detective, Dr. Beckett had snatched and pushed Mac around the corner from the explosion just before the floors opened up and the water started pouring through. Where there was once darkness was now hues of bright red and orange from a burning natural gas pipeline. A splinter of light from the surface was widening from the water pouring through from overhead. A section of road, a SUV dropped on its end, an upside down Porsche and a totaled Mercedes now blocked their previous entranceways along with sections of stores and a re-routed subway sticking through the wall. Screaming people were trapped with the bodies of dead commuters. Beyond that was the sound of rumbling as the collapsed and shattered tunnels shifted and settled, fires roared uncontrolled both up and down and buildings on the surface fell into each other like dominos into whole blocks of devastation. Lying flat on a section of ground stuck up at an angle, Mac held on to the man he thought was his best friend, unaware that it was really a man named Dr. Scott Beckett from a few years into the future, from falling into a sudden crevasse filled with raging waters.

"Don!!!" Mac shook and gritted his teeth terrified of death. "Give me your other arm!!!"

"I can't…" Sam Beckett had taken a serious blow to the head in the explosion. "I think my arm is broken."

"I'm not leaving you!!!" Mac held on to him. "If we go down, we're going together!!!" He heard a lingering tremor of shifting earth.

"Save yourself." Sam knew the truth. "I'll be okay."

"Don!!! Your other hand!!!"

Sam looked to the raging torrent just a foot under him, back up to Mac holding him by the left hand and looked around delirious. All that water was going somewhere. It could be flowing into a subterranean lake or back out to the Hudson. He achingly lifted his right hand as the earth under Mac shifted from the foundation washed out from under it. When it shifted, Mac nearly lost Sam, and both of his hands grabbed on to Sam's left wrist trying to hoist him up, but the rock shifted again, Mac lost his grip and Sam was immediately swallowed up by the raging waters pouring through the twelve foot wide hole. In that split second, Doctor Sam Beckett leaped out of time….

And elsewhere…

"Mac!!! Ow!!!" Even in another person's lifetime, Sam's right arm was still broken and he dropped the bottle of beer he was holding. Grimacing in pain, he reacted and carefully gripped his right arm with his left hand to hold it to his chest. He was in a deserted warehouse somewhere standing in a ring of teenagers and young adults around a roaring steel barrel of burning firewood. One young couple was making out on a sleeping bag, another young man held his girlfriend tightly in front of him as she giggled and laughed with him. The location appeared abandoned as old bottling equipment rusted and fell prey to the elements. Forgotten glass Pepsi bottles still rested in the assembly waiting through years of weather, dust and neglect to be filled with sweet carbonated drink. Sam winced in pain and walked over an old Britney Spears promotional cardboard cutout.

"Zack…" One of the Forman twins looked over while sipping his bottle of beer. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Sam reacted around these kids. "Oh, it's an old… football injury…"

"You play football and basketball?" Cody Forman paused from kissing Ashley Burkhart to respond to Sam.

"Did I say football?" Sam quickly corrected himself. "I meant, basketball…" Sam looked at him. "It's a basketball injury." He knew it was broken because of the pain shooting up to his shoulder. "I think I better go see a doctor…"

"Doctor? Whoa, wait!!!" Dylan Forman, Cody's twin brother, pushed the cute Japanese beauty Brenda Hyde off of him and jumped to his feet. "Dude, wait! Kelly is hot for your body tonight. You can't go!!!" The boys were sons of Eric and Donna Forman, local Chicago residents, and long term-friends of Zack Kelso. They usually frequented the old movie theatre, but since it was being restored, they had just now started camping out in this former warehouse.

"Kelly?" Sam looked over and around the rusted bottle-filling machines. On a surface of blankets and sleeping bags was an incredibly attractive young lady a bit older than the twenty-something under-achievers around her. Dressed in a black leather mini-skirt and violet shoulderless top with her leather jacket hanging off her arms, she leaned backward braced on her arms, stretched out her legs and lifted her ruby red lips and innocent blue eyes up to him. Sam, Dylan and Cody each dropped their jaws to be looking at her. She looked sexual, innocent and enticing all at the same time.

"Oh boy…"


	9. Chapter 9

9

Given the pain in his arm, Sam took Kelly with him to the Emergency Room and she waited impatiently and flirted with young interns and orderly as they x-rayed his arm and set it in a cast. It was a clean break, but it should heal quickly and be better in a few weeks to a month or two. Sam had had these injuries before. In his time traveling back and forth in time, the passages of time could speed up his healing process within minutes and give him the stamina of a younger man and even sometimes turn him to an old man even faster. He also figured out a few things. His name was Zack Kelso, the thirty-five-year-old younger brother of Chicago police officer Michael Kelso with whom he was living while attending acting school with Kelly. His reflection told him he resembled a certain Disney movie actor known for playing basketball and dating Vanessa Hudgins. Kelly was no Vanessa Hudgins; she was a bit promiscuous, simple-minded and judging from how she talked, she had the brain of a first-grader.

"I don't think giving that guy your number was a good idea." Sam drove her home in Zack's van and looked for Kelly's house.

"Why?" Kelly reacted. "He was cute!"

"He's old enough to be your father!" Sam chided her. "Besides, his wife was there and she was looking at you as if she wanted to slice your throat." Sam located 9764 Jeopardy Lane and pulled into the driveway behind an old red and rusty 1964 Dodge. Kelly just made an annoyed noise and looked out the car door window.

"That was his wife??" Kelly reacted slowly. "I thought that was his mother!" She opened the car door to Sam hurrying around the van to escort her to the door. The yard was a garden of weeds and dandelions. The walkway was sunken in three to four sections with cracks filled with grass growing through them. The porch was rickety and the interior windows were dark. Sam stepped upon to the porch and Kelly's wrapped her lips over his yearning for love and respect. He inhaled her perfume, held her by the waist and gently pushed her away. Backing away, the sexy blonde ingénue looked up at him with a deep breath filling out her cleavage.

"Look, Kelly," Sam tried to appeal to her. "You are a sweet, warm and wonderful young lady. You are meant a lot more than this act you've got of trying to seduce others for attention. You are not stupid; personal fulfillment comes from your heart… not from what you think you can get from others."

"If I wanted a discussion, I'd still be dating my teachers." Kelly chided him.

"Kelly," Sam tried to get through to her as a light went on in the living room. The family dog started barking inside the house. "Don't let anyone tell you what to do. Follow your heart toward your life's desires, and don't let anything or anyone stand in your way. If it's worth having, it's worth working for."

"No one's ever cared that much for me before." Something went on in the blonde's head. She looked down, around and draped her arms around Sam, her lips pressed to his again, her figure draped against him. Sam just held his hands up, but when the father opened the door, he reacted.

"Mr. Bundy???" Sam looked up as Kelly turned her head. Al looked disapprovingly upon the young man he saw kissing his daughter and grabbed him by the throat to throttle him.

"Night, daddy!" Kelly gave her father a light peck to his cheek and scooted in a light skip past him to her room.

"Night, pumpkin!" Al beamed to his little girl then sneered upset back to the boyfriend. "You know, it's after one in the morning and I caught you all over my daughter."

"Well, actually…" Sam choked on his grip. Al leaned him forward and pounded him into the wall on the front porch.

"Sam…" The hologram of Al Kalavicci had popped up in his Navy Admiral uniform on the bottom porch. "Repeat after me… Didn't you once get four touchdowns in a single game?"

"Didn't you once get four touchdowns in a single game?" Sam groaned out over the angry father's hand on his throat.

"You know my greatness?" Al let Sam go and struck his old football pose. He beamed over being recognized as a celebrity from his greatest victory and started to see the young man Sam had to be in a new light.

"Yes, sir…" Sam looked from Al Bundy to Al Kalavicci. "You see… my father went to…"

"Polk High." Kalavicci filled in.

"Polk High… and he still talks about you."

"So, he still remembers me after all these years!" Bundy was feeling pretty happy.

"Yes, sir…" Sam looked to Al Bundy again in his pajamas.

"You know…" Bundy loved to talk to those he considered his fans. "I could have played professional football, but…"

"Al, come and rub my tooshie!!!" The wife screeched from upstairs.

"But a certain red-haired thing upstairs stopped me in my tracks." He regretted ever taking Peggy Wanker under those high school bleachers. "Hey, next time, you're around, bring your football. I'll show you a few things."

"Well, actually, sir," Sam was inching carefully back and down the steps of the porch. "I actually play basketball…"

"I used to hit the net myself!" Al claimed. "Bring your ball…"

"Yes, sir…." Sam turned and looked at his holographic buddy in the uniform smoking his stogie. As one Al retreated back into his house and turned off the lights, the other Al puffed on his cigar a few more puffs and glanced at his comlink. Sam gasped and paused tiredly at the van. His arm with the cast swaying a bit, he looked back to his holographic partner looking up to Kelly undressing behind the second floor window shade.

"Al!!!"

"I wasn't thinking about her…" He lied. "Sam, your name is Zachary Aaron Kelso. It's Chicago, September 27, 2007, and you're a struggling actor…."

"Al," Sam reacted defeatedly as the memories of his last leap into Don Flack still rested in his Swiss-cheesed memory. "I failed… Manhattan blew up because I couldn't stop it…"

"No, Sam…" Al was looking between Beckett and his comlink as he gestured with his cigar. "Something you did tonight changed all that. You changed history as Zack Kelso somehow. Manhattan no longer blows up, neither Summers or the Winchesters get arrested, Councilman Gaynor never disappears and even makes it into the New York State Assembly and more than a dozen people missing before the explosions suddenly turn up alive and well." Al paused in the thick grass. "Sam, in the original timeline, Kelly, her brother and the neighbors vanished, but now Kelly becomes an actress, she gets a job as a comedienne on TV and later settles down with her daughter in a little place near Highland Park living off the residuals of her movies, all because of something you said to her tonight."

"She never marries?"

"No, she never marries." Al responded. "Some sort of psychological thing with her parents. Neither does her brother; he's now living with his girlfriend in Miami and their five kids."

"I don't get it." Sam was still in the dark as he returned to Zack's van. "What connection does Zack or Kelly have to an explosion that almost takes out half of Manhattan a month later?"

"I don't know…" Al started punching names and places into his comlink for all the characters Sam met in Manhattan for connections to Mac Taylor and the Winchester Brothers. "Wait…" He found something. "You know how those brothers investigate anything paranormal? Well, it seems that old soda bottling plant you were in earlier gets leveled in three months and underneath it, the workmen uncover an old church buried under the foundations… one dedicated to demonic worship."

Sam turned back to look at Al a bit annoyed.

"I don't think so." He refused to accept that connection. "Al, there's no such things as demons or evil spirits. Those boys were crazy."

"Do you have a better solution?"

"Chaos effect." Sam once knew Ian Malcolm who had created the theory. "If a butterfly flaps its wings, it rains in Japan. My appearance here triggered a series of probable but likely unrelated events that sent the brothers off course and they never made it to Manhattan."

"Or… or…" Al had another theory. "When you brought Kelly home early, you stopped her and her friends from releasing something that the brothers were trying to destroy in Manhattan." Sam opened the door to Zack's van and paused.

"There are no such things as demons and evil spirits." He declared and slipped into the van. His right hand with the cast reached up to the ignition to turn over the engine and the world exploded in light for him with energy and twinkling lights. Once more, he was jumping through time heading back and further back into history. Was it a few months or several years? When he could see his surroundings again, he found himself hovering over a large crate in a large chamber. A crowbar in his hands positioned against the large rusted lock in chains around it, Sam hesitated and started getting his bearings. The ceiling vault was the home of a few bats and the only light was from a flashlight on a grave outside the door. He was in the back room of a mausoleum. That made what he was breaking into something other than a crate, it was a casket and the crest on it in gold had barely legible letters on it that read, "Barnabas Collins." Sam shuddered as he realized he had leaped into the life of a grave robber.

"Oh boy…"

END


End file.
